


The Unexpected Arrival

by PossumTeeth



Category: Courage the Cowardly Dog
Genre: Angst, Basically they show up to nurse him back to health before killing him, But they try, Caretaking, Cartoon Physics, Courage is terrified almost 24/7, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Flashbacks, Gen, Happy Dysfunctional Murder Family, Kidnapping, Mourning, Muriel Dies AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Sort Of, Stockholm Syndrome, Villain Caretakers, they're not great at caring for him, while also giving him death threats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-01-14 21:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PossumTeeth/pseuds/PossumTeeth
Summary: After Muriel and Eustace’s passing, the Middle of Nowhere finally seems too empty for Courage. But some familiar, frightening faces will soon change all of that...





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by Acid/C2ndy2c1d (http://c2ndy2c1d.tumblr.com) and her undying loyalty for one of my favorite cartoons, Courage the Cowardly Dog. And since she’s shown so many wonderful drawings to help sate my cravings, I thought I would write something in exchange. This story has been in the works for a very long time, and I've finally moved it to AO3.
> 
> This particular scenario is inspired by her awesome comic:
> 
> http://c2ndy2c1d.tumblr.com/post/69459342190/yeah-probably-its-not-the-best-idea-to-have-the

_Muriel…_

In the dead of night, in the Middle of Nowhere, a dog cried in an empty farmhouse. 

Courage lay on the rug, the cold air brushing across him as he sniffled. It was freezing, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t lay in the rocking chair that was still beside him, not without a warm, loving lap to hold him and hands to pet him behind the ears and make him know that everything was fine.

But nothing was fine. It was never going to be fine again.

 _Muriel…_ he thought for the hundredth time that night, chest heaving with a weak sob. Red, puffy eyes shifted to the other empty armchair besides him. It still had the old man’s imprint on it.

Eustace was gone, too. He didn’t show much emotion, even after Muriel was buried. But without his wife’s cooking to fill him up, he couldn’t seem to eat enough. Courage had been too heartbroken to cook, and the old man just sat in his chair, muttering about being hungry and not having Muriel’s meals to eat anymore. And when he wasn’t muttering, Courage saw nothing but the back of the same newspaper being held in old, shaky hands as he sat.

Soon, he didn’t even bother to drive to town to eat. Courage tried to get his attention, whining at the foot of his chair, but his whimpers were ignored. Eustace didn’t acknowledge him, not even calling him names or popping out that stupid, scary mask to jolt him back into some routine—anything to make it seem like things could be the same. Eventually, Eustace didn’t bother to get out of his chair. He stopped reading his newspaper. And the frame that had his and Muriel’s wedding picture had been placed closer to his armrest.

He was buried before the week was over.

Courage curled up against the rug as the memory flooded back, causing another stream of tears to drip down his face, joining the puddle surrounding him. It was a wonder that he hadn’t dried up yet. It had been days since he ate or drank. _I miss you…_

He had saved her from so many things in their lifetime. From menacing cats, harmful poultry, a possessed mattress, an evil fungus, bossy bullfrogs, man-eating cockroaches, film-making zombies, a mutant kangaroo, even an undead Egyptian king. It all happened in Nowhere, and Courage had always managed to save the day and keep his beloved guardian safe.

But it seemed that he had finally met his match with Death. The one thing that he couldn’t prevent.

He couldn’t have protected her forever.

Courage choked on another sob, though his eyes were too sore from crying to see the shadows at the window shifting towards the door.

_Muriel, Muriel… M-Muriel…_

There was nothing left for him in this world. Nothing but the farm, and the memories left in it. He didn’t have long left, anyway. It had been too long since he had eaten, and he felt so weak from days of stillness. Best to just lie there and soon, he could join the Bagges in a new farmhouse in the sky.

Courage laid there, his mind floating up to think of all the things he could see once again after the night was over. _The gentle humming of Muriel in his ears as she knit away in her rocking chair…_

“Quest ce que?”

_Eustace laughing at whatever shadow had scared him that time before Muriel would thwack him against the head with her rolling pin…_

“Wouldja lookit that, see? Dumb dog’s a wreck, yeah. Yeah, a wreck, see?” Another accent spat, followed by a chorus of smaller ‘yeahs’.

_The scent of Happy Plums wafting in the kitchen…_

“A right fine mess he’s gotten into,” a cajun-spiced voice joined in.

Courage’s tiny ear tilted up, but soon fell back against his head as he dismissed it. Probably just the wind.

The first voice piped up once more, laced with curiosity. “Pesky little doggie is not dead, is he? Zat would be no fun at all. Huhuhuhuhu…”

He was hearing things, the sorrowful dog surmised. Days without food and he was hallucinating, that was it. He had finally caught some level of delusion where the voices of creatures he had encountered over the years had reappeared and spoke in his head. Le Quack, Cajun Fox…

“Yeah, been a long time since we seen this dog’s mug, see?”

Big Toe, too? It was fine. No need to get up. He thought his chances were better off rotting into the floor, anyway.

“I do declare, that pup’s looking flour-white about now.”

Shivering, Courage curled himself up into a ball and awaited the end.

“Hm. He looks bad,” a soft, slithering voice hissed out. “Even worse than I remember. Like a wet sack of cotton candy, and I haven’t even had the pleasure of drowning him yet.”

He plugged his ears as the voices didn’t seem to go away. Rather, they grew louder. And more of them were appearing.

“How annoying. Seems a shame to come all zees way, just to have him die of fright, isn’t eet?”

Courage started hyperventilating.

_I’m dreaming! I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming, this can’t be real! It just can’t!_

Finally, to appease his maddening mind and his pounding heart, Courage opened his eyes to prove to himself that he was the only one in the room and he could get back to mourning.

Several eyes and figures stared down at him in response.

_They were real._

…

...

...

_**“AHHH-H-H-H-H-H-H-H-H-H-HHHH!!!”** _

Courage’s scream filled the house, eyes bulging to take in the impossible, horrifying sight of so many enemies in the room. So many horrible memories came flooding back, making the pup’s frazzled fur stand straight on end.

_“NO, NO, NO, NO-O-O-O-O-O!”_

“OH, how I missed that scream!” Cajun Fox grinned as he leaned over the quaking dog. “Now he’s startin’ to look like the stupid mutt we all rememba!”

Courage’s heart pounded in his chest. “NO, NO, NONONONONONO-!”

He felt something grab his neck, hoisting him up by the scruff. What little strength he had left had him wriggling frantically, whining as he was jerked forward to face one of the figures, his broken heart leaping into his throat as he found himself staring straight into the cold yellow eyes of Katz.

The scarlet cat’s gaze never broke from him.

“Dog,” he spoke up, and his tone dripped with the same venomous discontentment at Courage’s existence as it always had. “Do be useful for once and… shut up.”

Courage’s paws rose, clamping his chattering teeth together.

“There’s a good mutt.”


	2. Part Two

_WHY? Why is this happening?! Why are they here?! I’ve already lost everything!_ Courage babbled incoherently, head jerking as much as it could as Katz held him high over the floor.

“Hm? Why are we here?” Katz responded. “Oh, that’s simple, dear boy. We heard about your… tragedy. And we thought we would stop by and pay our respects.”

“By buryin’ you with ‘em,” Cajun Fox piped up.

Katz gave a deathly stare at the fox for interrupting, looking at the trembling dog in his grip. “Yes, quite. It was all under agreement that whomever got here first would be the one to kill you. After all, you did cause us a lot of trouble in the past.”

The room shook, Big Toe leaping in to talk. “Yeah, but one look at you, and we saw that killin’ you would be too merciful, see? Yeah. So we’re gonna make sure you feel better before we get to snuffin’ you out, yeah.“

Courage gave a whine, shrinking as the cat jerked him closer.

“And since we’re already here…” Katz murmured.

Cajun Fox was already headed towards the kitchen. “We might as well settle in and get right at home!”

“Good idea. I shall look for le silverware,” Le Quack chuckled, waddling over to the cabinets to peek inside. “Or le deed to the house. Or jewelry. Pay me no mind.”

“No problem,” Black Puddle Queen smirked, lounging in her puddle portal as she watched Courage struggle and turn blue from Katz’s paw slowly, obliviously tightening around his neck. Old habits died hard, it seemed. “I think you need to let him breathe to live,” she mused with her silky sea voice. “Of course, I live underwater. I don’t know how important air is.”

Katz looked at the now-purple Courage. “Oh, if I must,” he sighed, dropping the mutt to flop on the floor.

“Besides, it sounds like lunch is already underway.”

Katz raised a brow. “From that backwoods fox? I should hope not.”

A splash and the patter of sure footsteps receded as the two villains left the thoroughly-frightened dog to try to wrap his mind around what in the four corners of Nowhere had just occurred. He lifted himself up, flinching at the sound of slamming pantry doors and arguing voices wafting from beyond. He now had five (not including the four little toes in Big Toe’s ensemble) of his greatest enemies loitering in the kitchen. Muriel’s kitchen.

This wasn’t a hotel! Why didn’t they just kill him and get it over with?

He dusted himself off. _This… This just isn’t right, or my name is Renaldo Jermando Blinkerton the Third… and it’s not._

With a whimper, Courage scurried into the kitchen.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

“Hey, now! There’s all kinds of goodies in these pantries!”

Courage blinked, jolting with a shriek as he dodged a barrage of knives soaring through the air to sink into the wall around him, almost pinning him like an appetizer.

Le Quack flew in, twisting his mustache. “Voila. I found le silverware,” he smirked.

“Eee…” Courage shuddered, the knives glinting around his head. _I think I’m gonna die before they get the chance to keep me alive!_

“Aw, missed,” Cajun Fox chuckled as he kept rifling through the pantries, picking out cans to toss, metal and all, into a boiling pot. "Don’t matter anyway, pup. We ain’t even gonna think about tuckin’ you in for the last sleep without some good cookin’ from yours truly!”

“Oh? And what are you making in the meantime?” Katz murmured as he slunk around, looking through one of Muriel’s cookbooks.

“Hush up, furball!”

Seeing no reason to stand in the line of fire, Courage scuttled over to sit at the table.

As bizarre as the entire scenario seemed, he couldn’t see a way to escape this. He wasn’t going to leave the farm in their hands; this was all that he had left. Without it, there was nothing for him until he could join the Bagges once again. And without Muriel to protect, what threat were they, really? The worst they could do was kill him—and they had decided against that in favor of “caring” for him!

And besides a few near-death experiences since they appeared, it wasn’t nearly as bad as he remembered.

Courage sat there mulling it over, only glancing up at a rustle of paper. He stood up straight as he realized that Katz had taken the other side of the table, stacking a pile of dust-laden books.

A small sound escaped him.

Katz then looked up, piercing Courage with a look.

“…” The pink dog’s eyes grew, head and body slowly sliding down out of his chair to hide underneath the table.

“Hm,” the cat dismissed his victim, returning to pilfering through the deceased woman’s recipes. What did she ever cook that didn’t have vinegar in it?

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Underneath the table, hiding from the cat, Courage continued to shiver. It seemed that everywhere he turned, something frightening was on the other side. Just like when he was a puppy. Or like every other day, honestly.

“Quest ce que?”

The dog screamed, Le Quack appearing before him, a large mallet in hand.

“Calm down, little doggie,” the duck snorted, tapping the mallet in his feathered hand. “One tap and all of your nerves will be relaxed and unconscious.”

A pink blur shot out from the table, Courage scrambling to the other side of the kitchen, swinging open the sink cabinet and hiding inside.

_I don’t like this, I don’t like this, no, no, no…_

He barely had a moment to breathe before the pipes surrounding him began to shake, hissing and spraying and leaking water, soaking the poor canine. One pipe in particular started to swell, a purple mass of hair slipping out, large pink eyes and grinning fangs soon following.

“Feeling suffocated, Courage~?” the Black Puddle Queen purred out.

Courage took a moment to wonder exactly what a heart attack felt like before he swooned, falling face-first into the water.


	3. Part Three

“Owww-w-w-w…”

The room swam back into view as Courage opened his eyes, dizzy and confused. His heart was thundering in his ears, and the floor felt like it was moving underneath him.

_Too much spinning…_ was his feeble thought as he fell forward once again– only to remain in place.

“Huh?” Courage tried to move, realizing that he couldn’t flex his limbs or even wriggle. He craned his neck to look down, seeing that he was tied to a kitchen chair, his body wrapped entirely in thick iron chains. “UH?!”

“Ah-hah! Seems zat he has come to!” Le Quack nodded, observing how his patient was reacting to being restrained. He looked terrified– it was a success! “While I do not think that it was nothing zat a leetle bonk on ze head couldn’t have fixed, zis is just as effective, non? Huhuhu…”

Big Toe scoffed. “Yeah, you’re a regular Freud with chains. We get it, duck, yeah.”

The pink dog could only stare at them blankly. What had happened? 

“ ‘Ow was your nap, little doggie?”

Now it was all coming back, he remembered. Intense terror that invaded his very soul, followed by him losing consciousness, passing out in a cabinet with a man-eating sea witch. Same old, same old.

The clatter of pots and pans rang out beside him, making him turn his head to see the back of Cajun Fox at the stove, shoulders hunched as he stirred a large pot full of a mystery stew, humming a tune as he did so. Whatever it was, the smell was enough to make Courage scrunch up his nose, sticking out his tongue.

“Oh, don’t start that! You just cranky 'cos you ain’t eaten yet!”

Courage’s tongue shot back in his mouth as the chef turned around to grin at him. Eaten? Suddenly, another wave of the odor from the pot wafted over him, and had his stomach somehow growling as it churned. It had been a while since he had eaten. But the lack of food was overcompensated by terror, it seemed.

“Yep. Makin’ somethin’ special for you. Just like old times.”

He wasn’t so sure that he liked the sound of that.

Scratch that. He was absolutely, completely sure that he didn’t.

“Yeah, just like when we first met. ‘Course, I was tryin’ to make somethin’ else entirely. That sweet little granny would’ve made a real good stew,” Cajun Fox mourned, dunking an extra batch of turtle eyes in the pot. Where he had gotten those, Courage had no idea.

“Don’t start that up, see?!” Big Toe spat out. “The mutt’ll start bawling again.”

“Let him. Puppy tears add a nice zest to a meal.”

The chains rattled as Courage shivered, wishing he could cover his ears or at least his mouth.

The shades glinted deviously as the fox looked back.“I’m just kiddin’, pup. This here’ll fix you. It’s full of all the stuff that’ll give you the nutrition you need in each bite! Lots of vegetables, greens, raw fish heads (heart-healthy, you know!), and just like your sweet granny, lots of vinegar for flavor!”

Words couldn’t express how horrible that sounded. So he gave a big retch to emphasize.

“Don’t be like that. C’mon, you gotta eat. How we gonna torture you if’n ya don’t take some bites?”

“With your cooking, I’m sure that’s torture enough,” Katz popped up once again, sitting on the other side of the room, enjoying a cup of tea.

A paw gripping the wooden spoon tightened, but relaxed as he turned back to the pot, grabbing a bowl. The slurching sounds of scoop after scoop of the concoction dripping into it was heard around the room.

_Yuck, yuck, bleugh— Did that eye just blink?!_ Courage’s head shrank into his shoulders, hiding his mouth.

The fox’s drawl rang out, “Gonna be stubborn, huh? Fine. Go on, Toe. Talk to him.”

The room shook, the chair tilting back and forth precariously, making Courage’s eyes pop back into sight, only to be faced the scowling mug of Big Toe.

“Look here, dog. We’re gettin’ tired of hearin’ that gut of yours growl, see? This here’ll shut it up, yeah, see? So you better get to workin’ or else I’ll put the squeeze on ya. Get it, see?”

“Yeah, put the squeeze on ya!” a chorus of the little toes rang out.

Babbling again, Courage shook his head—yelping as a paw grabbed his face, and a spoon full of stew was shoved into his mouth.

For one sweet moment, it felt like his entire mouth went numb before the taste hit his brain. The rancid, bitter goop soon exploded on his tongue, almost bubbling in his throat as if it didn’t like how it tasted itself. It was hot and cold and slimy and congealed, sticking to every taste bud and giving no mercy.

And what was worse… it was _healthy!_

“MMPHH!” The dog whined, gurgling as his cheeks puffed out, wanting to spit it out; but the hand on his throat rose up and pinched his nose shut.

Against everything in his body, Courage swallowed the stew.

He really wished he hadn’t.

“There we go, now!” The fox scooped up another quivering, steaming spoonful, shoving it down the dog’s throat and clamping his mouth shut before he even grab another breath. “Down the hatch!”

The Puddle Queen watched Courage closely. “Is he supposed to turn that shade of green?”

“Yep! That means it’s ju-u-u-ust right!” Another scoop. “Down the hatch again!”

**“BLEUGH!”**

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

“There’s a good puppy! Ya finished every last bite of your greens!” Cajun Fox plopped the pot in the sink, turning back. “Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Courage gave a weak groan, too nauseous to care that his face was caked in the disgusting gunk, having fought for his sense of taste.

“What a mess,” Puddle Queen murmured out, face scrunching up.

“I’ll say, yeah,” Big Toe grumbled, his own fungus-infested body scooting away.

“Zat looked, to me, very humiliating, vile, and completely inhumane,” Le Quack agreed. A grin lit up his beak. “I enjoyed zat immensely.”

Courage had to agree—except he didn’t enjoy that, obviously. His stomach was burning, and the smell of vinegar perforated every pore in his body. He was sticky with stew, and he could have sworn that he felt a fish head trying to talk to his tonsils. But at least he wasn’t hungry anymore.

_I guess it wasn’t so bad…_

It was then that Courage tuned back in to what the villains were discussing, rather heatedly.

“Ain’t no way around it. It’s gonna have to happen. If we don’t, he’s gonna end up stinkin’ up the whole house!”

“That’s not happenin’, Cajun!” Big Toe growled, “Not in my life, see?!”

Cajun Fox heaved a sigh. “It ain’t my fault that he got it all over himself! Pup’s like a baby bein’ fed. He wiggled too much. Besides, we’re supposed to make him feel all better before we kill him, right?”

_Why do they have to keep saying that?_ Courage whined.

It was a moment of silence.

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Yeah, see?”

“Oui, monsieur.”

“S’ agreed, den. The mutt’s gettin’ a bath.” 

_… BATH?!?!_

Courage bolted upright, sending a splatter of stew as he shrieked, starting to bite at the chains.

The fox turned, hands on his hips in exasperation. “Oh, _now_ you wanna eat?”


	4. Part Four

A bath! They wanted to give him a bath! What kind of sick torture was that?! Courage kept biting at the metal that engulfed him, but only gained sore teeth.

“Aw, calm down!” Cajun Fox chuckled. “It ain’t gonna be that bad. Queenie, set him up, will ya?” 

Lost in his own escape plan, Courage had just managed to fish out a blowtorch from his fur-pocket, trying to light it, only for it to be smacked out of his paw.

Puddle Queen smiled down at him, all teeth; and each one with his name on it. “Come along, puppy,” she cooed, claws petting him before she grabbed the chair, sliding it over to the other room. “Getting ready for your bath-h-h.”

Frantic protests followed as she dragged him up the stairs.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The fox sat himself at the head of the table, looking around the other villains.

"No two ways ‘round it. One of us is gonna have to roll up our sleeves and give the pup a good scrubbin’. He ain’t in any condition to be doin’ that himself. Now who’s it gonna be?” he looked over at the less-than-enthusiastic group at the table. His gaze fell on the sea witch as she slithered in. “Queenie, you wanna give it a shot?”

She shook her head. “I can’t. After I set up the bath, it was almost too hard to repress the urge to drown him,” she responded.

The fox shrugged. “Well, I can’t do it! All that water, it’s like a big ol’ pot o’ soup! I’d wanna put it on boilin’ and turn it into a doggy stew. Quack?”

“Sorry, monsieur. My services do not include bathing pesky little doggies.”

Big Toe scoffed, stomping the floor. “Yeah, an’ none of us can do it, see? We ain’t fingers, see? So who’s gonna scrub the mutt clean?” he snapped.

After a moment, all of them turned to look at Katz.

The silence made the scarlet feline look up from his cup of tea, blinking as the rest of the villains had targeted him.

“… No,” he answered.

“Why not? You ain’t done nothin’ since we settled in here!” Cajun Fox argued, fur bristling. “Quack chained him up in his seat, I cooked him a meal, Toe made him eat it, an’ Queenie made sure he’s waitin’ for his bath! The heck have you done to help, furball?”

Katz’ gaze sharpened. “I’ve been tolerating your presence since you first stumbled in, you bulbous-eyed hayseed.”

Cajun Fox growled, grabbing a rolling pin from the counter and swinging it down on the table, ready to split the other’s smug face open. But before he could even start a recipe for Cat Brain Stew, he paused as the cat’s teacup shivered, hopping out of his paw and down on the table.

A tiny version of Puddle Queen popped up in the steam, arms crossed.

“Boys, boys,” she hissed out. “Now is not the time. Save the bloodshed for Courage.”

Both looked at each other, shrugging in agreement.

“Guess that’s settled.” The water witch smirked, turning around to leer at the unfortunate feline. “Scrub up, kitty.”

Katz narrowed his eyes, tipping over the teacup with his tail.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Courage sat on the floor, dreading what was to come as he twiddled his paws, glancing at the door nervously. He had been released from the shackles, and now forced to wait and see who was going to give him the scrubbing of his life.

His paws slid through the shaggy carpet that he sat on, the room stifled with heat and vapor from the water. He remembered what the Puddle Queen had remarked after she had drawn his bath. 

_She slid around the tub like a happy eel, fingers dipping into the water as it spewed out of the hissing faucet. She turned to him. Magenta eyes glittered with malice._

_“I expect this will not be a pleasant experience for either of you,” she had purred._

Courage slumped against the wall, giving a deep whine. _My thoughts exactly._

The doorknob jiggled.

Tiny ears shot up in alarm, a squeak escaping the pooch as he watched it turn. 

_Who is it, who is it… ?!_

His heart dropped into his stomach as the door opened.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

“Believe me, mutt, this wasn’t voluntary.”

Katz felt the need to say this as he shut the door behind him, sharp eyes never once leaving the dog. 

Good gods, the mutt was a mess. Caked in a thick layer of whatever sludge that fox had concocted, his pink fur shedding and leaving trails on the floor. Disgusting.

The feline walked over to the tub, noting how his charge scooted away.

“Don’t look at me like it’s my fault. If you hadn’t insisted on smearing all of the fox’s cooking on you, we wouldn’t have to go through this,” he started.

The dog continued to sulk. _I don’t want a bath…_

With a snort, Katz stared into the tub for a moment, as if contemplating what a bath was used for. This was all rather unfamiliar to him. He dipped a finger into the warm liquid– only to hiss and yank it back out of the water, every instinct screaming for a towel as his fur bristled. 

Oh, he hated being wet. Came with being a cat.

"I prefer personal grooming, myself,” he murmured, eying the bath in disdain. “Not lounging in a tub of water like some inept fish.”

Courage started to creep away, only to make a noise as Katz lifted him by the scruff of his neck, dangling him over the tub.

The cat sighed, wishing to be anywhere instead of here. Reduced to coddling a dog. What kind of feline was he turning into? “Seeing as how I was stuck with the task of bathing you, I’ll try to make this as quick as possible. Goodness knows that I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”

Courage tried to nod. He was right about that, at least.

Suddenly, he was lowered.

_Splash!_

The water smacked against Courage’s face, his entire body enveloped as he gave a yelp, regretting it as soap flooded his mouth. He spat it out and squirmed, trying to swim; the paw on his neck never loosened.

Courage managed to break the surface of the water, getting a gasp of air– before being dunked again, shaken around like a scrubbing brush.

"ACK!" The world spun on his head, which rose and fell as he scrambled, his nails scraping uselessly against the side of the tub. He could see Katz’ figure sitting calmly besides the water, his arm still wrapped around his neck.

 _This isn’t bathing!_ Courage’s mind garbled. _It’s murder!_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Bubbles rose frantically to the surface.

“There, there…” Katz droned, stirring the dog around. It was going quite well, he had to admit. The stains were lifting right off the mutt’s coat, the bubbles filling the water. Wide eyes blinked underneath the foam, staring up at him. It was very effective, he mused, continuing to dunk the wiggling dog like a sponge.

Now, if he could only get that pesky breathing problem under wraps…

He was probably joking, of course.

The feline’s thoughts were instantly broken as he felt Courage give a big yank, sliding out of his grip and crawling away to the edge of the tub– to safety. 

_What… ?_ Katz’ ears perked up, soon pinning back to his head in annoyance. He clicked his tongue. 

_Oh, you’re going to play that game, mutt?_

Red paws dove back into the water, reaching for his victim. He grabbed a hold of pink fur– only for him to slip away once more. Drat! Stupid soap!

“Will you… hold still!” Katz snapped, trying to grab the squirming, slippery mongrel. Each time he slid out of his grip, the cat’s annoyance grew, his tone becoming impatient. “Stop moving! I can’t… Just hold your breath and… it will be over soon!”

Apparently, those were not the most comforting words, because with a shriek, and a mighty leap, Courage launched himself out of the water. He reached out and latched on to the shower curtain, feet kicking as he crawled up, up, and up, higher to avoid any more of the terrifying bath.

He nestled against the metal bar at the very top, trembling.

Beneath him, Katz growled under his breath. He had quite enough of the dog’s behavior. He was behaving like a spoiled pup! And all the cat was doing was just trying to help! “Dog! Come down from there!” he demanded. 

“No!” Courage clung to the flimsy plastic.

“I said _come down!”_

The dog shook his head, sending droplets of water everywhere. “No-no-no!”

That did it! That was it! He was trying to care for the mutt and this was how he was repaid?!

 _I’m missing tea time for this!_ With a snarl, Katz reached up, claws extending to dig into the shower curtain. He gave it a fierce shake, a grin slipping onto his face as Courage screamed from the movements, watching the small paws slowly loosen their grip on the wet sheet.

“Come… down… this… _instant!”_

_RI-I-I-I-I-IP!_

The feline watched as the curtain fluttered to the ground, hearing a short, startled yelp in the air as a sudden weight slammed on to his head, sending him tumbling into the vat of water.

A huge splash and flailing red limbs scrambled in the tub.

**_“RRREO-O-O-O-O-WWWRRRR!”_ **

Courage slid out of the tub, landing on the floor with a splat as he avoided the hissing and spitting. His mind spinning, he ran over to the door, jumping up for the doorknob, paws latching on and swinging it open–

That is, if it hadn’t been locked.

"Yikes!" the dog squealed, jerking the handle a few times. He was trapped! He whirled around as a sputtering cough rang out from behind. 

Courage whimpered, drenched fur blanching as he met the gaze of a weary, soaked Katz lying against the tub.

The cat was quiet, whiskers twitching and dripping.

“… Of course, you realize that I must kill you now,” he drawled.

Outside of the bathroom, the door immediately bent outwards before exploding in shards of wood. A perfect outline of Courage splintered in the frame as the wet and petrified dog ran down the hall, screaming his lungs out.

Katz slowly opened the rest of the door, following.

_I am never going to get the stench of wet dog out of my fur…_


	5. Part Five

Cleaning the farmhouse would be no simple task, but it had to be done.

Katz, in typical fashion, designated himself the head of cleaning. He assigned all of the others their jobs, and would clean up what they inevitably missed.

Of course, there was some opposition. Namely from the mutt. 

Courage was against the villains lurking around his cherished home, touching his owners’ things and potentially destroying them. He was persistent in letting them know how he felt. He babbled and whined and whimpered incessantly from the smallest things, such as when Eustace’s chair was dusted or Muriel’s rocking chair was even nudged. It was obnoxious and pitiful the way he would yelp, tugging his ears in a panic.

All Katz had to do was shoot him a look. “We’re not living in a dump, dog.” 

It was all he explained before ordering him to go sweep the porch. The dog seemed dejected, but obeyed and left, shutting the door with a click. 

Finally. That would keep the mutt away.

A few more minutes of cleaning went by, and the room was finished. Imagine, a job that could be accomplished without screaming or some exaggerated explosion. The cat turned as he heard a flap of wings. His eyes fell on Le Quack, who waddled his way into the room from the other side, feathers full as he carted a basket of freshly-dried laundry.

It was quite a sight to see, the cat honestly surprised to see the fowl giving of himself.

Of course, the domestic scene ended when the duck suddenly leapt on the pile of warm clothing, and began to nestle in the fresh towels like any other bird, not a care in the world on his face.

 _Slacking off, hm?_ It was then that Katz decided to creep up behind the cozy duck, arms crossed. 

“Pardon me,” he murmured coldly, “Are you doing the laundry or taking a nap?”

The thief started in surprise, small tufts of feathers flying off as he turned to see the other. “Oh, monsieur Katz! Huhuhu… Non, zere is no napping here, I swear,” he chuckled, accent drawling a little as he settled further into the towels. “Just waiting to put zees on ze clothesline.”

Katz nodded. “Ah, the clothesline… which is outside?”

“Indeed. Zat is where zees will go.”

“Why the wait?”

The duck’s expression shifted cleverly, still looking very comfortable. “I am waiting for ze warmth to leave.”

Katz raised a brow. “Oh, are you?”

“Oui. It makes eet… easier to hang.”

The feline heaved a sigh, tone weary. “And you promise that these will remain clean after your… wait?”

“Non filth, monsieur. Zere will be no filth in siz laundry, on my honor. All will be fluffed and folded.”

A thief’s honor. There was a promise bound to keep. Somehow he doubted that “feather-free” would be included in that list, but the cat made his way elsewhere before he decided to put the duck through the spin cycle.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The kitchen was the next stop. 

Katz wandered in, spotting Cajun Fox stirring something in a bowl, as he always was. Some noxious mixture that he would be trying to spoon down their throats to pass for ‘dinner’, no less.

“Fox, why aren’t you cleaning? I didn’t assign for you to bake.”

“What, now?” The fox turned to the cat, hand on his hip. “Listen here. I cook the meals, furball. So I ain’t gotta lift a finger nowhere else. The kitchen is my clean scene.”

That snappish tone only annoyed Katz. “First of all, it has to be edible before it can be considered a 'meal’. And secondly–”

Something slammed against the window with a squelch, rattling it. Streaks of purple slowly slid down the glass.

Katz started, ears back. “What in Nowhere…?”

The fox grinned at his look. “Toe’s helpin’ me with a few things,” he answered cheerily.

That was just asking for trouble. Curiosity winning, Katz went to the side and opened the door, only to leap out of the way of a splash of tomatoes. He blinked, watching as the gangrenous foot was jumping around the yard, stomping on piles of fruit and vegetables and boxes, each crumbling underneath the pressure.

This sight confused the cat. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

Big Toe grinned, watching the juices of the grapes he just slammed upon pool underneath him. “I’m cleanin’ out the…” _SQUISH!_ “… cabinets, see? Yeah! Cajun got out all the old food an’…” _SPLAT!_ “… I’m givin’ it the squeeze, see?”

A wave of old potatoes splattered against the side of the house, barely a warning before the odor swam towards the door, nearly sending the cat back into the kitchen from the ungodly stench. 

“Ugh! Are… Are you at least going to hose the house off– and yourself – before you come back inside?” Katz asked, nose crinkling.

 _SQUISH!_ A bag of tomatoes met their demise. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t, see? Yeah, maybe I won’t!”

The cat forgot his nausea, voice bristling. “Be sure that you do!”

The door slammed shut.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The upper level was, hopefully, under better management.

Being the expertise for water, he had assigned the Puddle Queen the bathroom. After all, with her shape-shifting abilities, she could easily slide her way through the tubes and with that giant, violet mess of hair, she was basically a pipe cleaner.

A splash and Katz’ instincts had him leaping out of a puddle that was steadily creeping out from underneath the door.

_… Dare I look?_

He dared, avoiding the puddle as he reached far over and twisted the knob, letting the door slosh open.

The entire bathroom floor was submerged. The bathtub was filled to the brim with water, the faucet on and spewing steadily more. A hand soon popped out of the faucet, along with a bushel of violet and black sliding into the tub.

The Puddle Queen’s head revealed above the water, sighing happily. “Nice and clean!”

It was too wet to go in further, but… Katz grimaced. He glanced at the water, then at the sea witch. 

He dreaded to even bother asking, but he did. “How is the cleaning going?” 

“Ah…” She smiled at him, serpentine body twisting as she leaned over the sink, wringing out her soaked locks. “Wonderfully, kitty-cat. Not a spot will be missed.”

“Yes. You’re doing a fine job so far.” 

The door was closed.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Now, all that was left was the one room that no one had bothered to touch. The bedroom.

Katz went to the doorway and peered in, not expecting the door to be already open. Strange… He stepped in.

Immediately, he felt it. The bedroom was cold. Strangely cold, in fact, colder than any other room in the house. The scent of age settled heavily in the floorboards, pressing a weight down upon the feline’s senses as he strolled in.

Yellow eyes glanced around, and soon closed in disgust. _Everything_ was coated in dust.

“Leave it to a dog to maintain a mess,” he spoke to no one in particular, a rag already in his hand and starting to polish off the dust intermingling on the metal bedposts. A strand of a cobweb shone here or there, but alas, no spiders.

That was a shame. 

A sense of homesickness suddenly gnawed at him, and he fondly recalled a chittering, venom-soaked maw snapping at prey. He really missed having his eight-legged darlings around.

 _Even my lovelies wouldn’t want to live in such a dusty dump,_ he concluded as he turned to wipe off the nightstand. The dog’s incompetence was astonishing. He had really let the place go after the deaths. And considering that the farmhouse was not by any means a manor to begin with, it was quite a feat.

He was leaning down to pilfer through the shelves, hoping to find a deed or something of value, when his eye caught something peeking out from the corner of a pillow on the bed.

“Hm?” He stepped forward, grabbing the pillow and moving it aside.

It was a picture. A plump, white-haired woman stared back at him. Her round face was radiating with a smile, apron stained with clots of mud. Her thick arms were filled with a basket of what appeared to be eggplants.

Ah, he remembered. The dog’s elderly owner, that Baggs woman. 

The frame was cracked, and the glass that encompassed the picture was caked in dust, blurring the smiling face that beamed out at whoever walked past. Some type of moisture had gotten on the edges, making the picture fray and curl– but it didn’t diminish the woman’s joyful expression. It was old. Decrepit. Forgotten.

 _What a mess…_ He reached out to clean it.

**“NO!”**

A voice suddenly screamed out, stopping him in his tracks. 

The bed creaked, and Courage appeared out of nowhere, now standing on the bed before the cat, arms out to shield the picture from him.

“D-Don’t!”

The feline still stood in mid-reach, staring at the mutt. It took him a moment to perceive the strange stance the mutt had taken. How the pink mongrel was standing up straight, so unlike the cowering figure that he knew him for. But he still saw a tremble in thin, weak limbs.

_Courage, indeed._

Katz blinked slowly. “I am just going to clean it,” he answered. 

The dog stepped back again to almost envelop the picture, head shaking wildly. His eyes were wider than usual, full of a different kind of fear that the cat could not place. 

“No, don’t touch it! Please!”

What nonsense. What had gotten into the mutt? He wasn’t going to break the bloody thing. “It’ll just take a moment, mutt.”

A whine was all that he got, which he assessed for cowardly agreement. But as he almost grabbed the frame, he froze as a paw was placed on his own. _Touching him._

He looked down, and the cat was gazing back into those wide, frightened orbs. 

To tell the truth, he had not noticed how dim they had gotten since their last encounter. When they had first seen the mutt, he had seemed so lifeless, a mere shell of his yellow-bellied, pink self. Now there was a light behind them, but it was weak; so easy to squelch. Hope. It was all that he had left, after all. What else was there? The woman in the photograph was dead. 

The feline’s hand twitched.

But, for once, he wasn’t sure that he liked the terror in those pleading eyes.

_… Stupid, sentimental dog._

His arm lowered, shrugging off the paw.

“Very well,” Katz finally responded, voice as cool and careless as ever. “I won’t touch it.”

Courage let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding, almost collapsing on the pillow. A smile lit up his face. Against his better judgement, he beamed up at the cat.

The frigid tone never changed. “This bedroom is now your section to clean, dog. Don’t mess it up.”

The dog nodded frantically, reaching down and cradling the picture to his chest. His smile was directed down at Muriel’s.

_At least I could save her one last time._

He hugged it close.


	6. Part Six

It was the end of the day, and night was drawing near.

The house was slowly becoming clean, or at least decent enough to live in. The villains were gathered around the living room, resting from their efforts. Since they had found the dog in the middle of the night, they had worked through to the day, and further still. Now was the time to sleep.

Katz finished dusting a bookshelf before he turned to the others.

“Now that the house is… adequate,” the feline began, his expression less than impressed as he looked around, “We can finally settle in. I suggest we make our sleeping arrangements. Anyone?”

Black Puddle Queen’s claw rose. “I claim the bathtub,” she crooned silkily.

“No argument there.”

Le Quack flapped a wing. “I wish to use le chair,” he said, leaping onto Eustace’s old chair, nestling into the large red cushion.

The room shook, and Big Toe was squeezing through the door to go outside. How the doorway was not crackling at the strain was a miracle in itself. “I’m sleepin’ in the back o’ that truck, see? Yeah!” he snapped, toes wriggling as he strained to get out. “I can rig it an’ cheese it if there’s any kinda trouble, see? I like a place for a quick getaway.”

Katz watched the large foot recede. “… Very well. And I shall claim the bed upstairs as my own.”

“Wh… Hey, furball!” An angry voice broke through, Cajun Fox bristling by the chair. “Ya didn’t even wait to here where I wanted ta sleep!”

“Of course not. I assumed that you would feel comfortable sleeping in a hole outside.”

“Stuff it!” The fox stomped towards the stairs. “I’m takin’ the bed!”

Katz reacted accordingly and rushed over to scramble up the stairs, quickly following the other as he ran to keep his claim. “Oh, no you are not, you flea-ridden, mangy, obnoxious–”

“Words ain’t gonna keep me from sleepin’ in a bed tonight, fluffy!”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The quilt flew to the ceiling as it was heaved up and floated back down neatly on the mattress. Pink paws grasped the corners, smoothing any wrinkles out. A fresh lightbulb shimmered from an old lamp on the nightstand, casting a warm glow that battled the cold, dark atmosphere the room used to hold.

Courage stepped back and grinned, proud of his handiwork. Nice and clean. Just how it used to be.

Unfortunately, the moment ended as the door slammed open, and two angry red blurs rushed into the room, arguing and snapping and heading towards the dog.

“YIPES!” Instincts had him dive under the bed.

Katz’ growl was the first to hit his ears. “You step away from the bed, dunce!”

“Make me, furball!” Cajun Fox snapped. To the dog’s horror, the bed began to creak as something started to lay on it. “S’ my bed now!”

Taking a deep breath, Courage scrambled out from under the bed, staring at the two, only to shriek as the fox was lounging on his newly-made quilt. “What… No! What are you doing!?” he yelped.

Cajun Fox snorted. “Newsflash, pup. I’m sleepin’ in the bed from now on.”

“WHAT?!”

“You’re mistaken, imbecile,” Katz snarled back, glaring at the fox from the other side. “I claimed the bed for myself. You can sleep in the basement.”

“Ain’t no way I’m sleepin’ in the basement!”

The argument was going nowhere, but Courage had other things to worry about. Namely, the very idea that these two were thinking about sleeping in his owner’s bed! “Y-You can’t!” he squeaked out.

It went quiet. Both turned to look at him.

“We can’t… what?”

The dog gulped down his fear. “Y… You can’t… sl-sleep in the b-bed!” he strained out. He could have sworn he felt his spine melting at the looks they were now giving him. “It’s… I don’t w-want you to!”

Katz stared at him, the yellow orbs glowing in the darkness. “That’s too bad, dog.”

“Yeah! ‘Sides, we ain’t got noplace else to go since we’re gonna be takin’ care o’ you,” the fox pointed out, accent thickening as he stretched out across the bed. His tail swished in the air. “An’ after we spent all this time cleanin’ up the house, you– whoo, this is comfy! – ain’t gonna let me enjoy a good night’s sleep in this ol’ bed?”

The cat’s head turned sharply to the other. “No, because this bed is mine,” he snipped, looking back at Courage. “In order to care for you, we need to be refreshed from a good night’s sleep. This bed will suffice.”

Courage whined, fighting back tears. “B-But… It’s… It’s M-Muriel’s bed!” he wailed.

The feline gave a sigh, voice softening ever so slightly. “I know that this upsets you,” he murmured, leaning down to look into those large, quivering eyes. “But I cannot stress to you enough on how much I do not care.”

Courage whimpered, knowing that he lost.

“And… now…” Katz drawled, staring down at his rival. The tension was thick and the animosity between them grew, both wanting the other to bow down and allow themselves the comfort of a large bed all to themselves.

Glinting shades stared back. “Now…” he mocked back.

Both cat and fox glared at each other.

Without another word, both leaned over and threw up the blankets before crawling on, each settling into their own respective sides, having realized their stubborness now gained them a new, unwanted bedmate.

After a few moments of elbows nudging not-too-gently and claws pinching at whatever got on their side, the two were soon settled in the soft mattress.

 _“No-no-no-no!”_ The dog babbled, tugging at the blankets frantically. “Get off!”

A sudden pressure around his neck, and the mutt was lifted up, only to be dumped on the foot of the bed between the two rustling figures. Confusion rose, and he tried to leap off, but the piercing eyes of Katz froze him to the spot.

“If it upsets you so much,” Katz hissed. “Why don’t you just lay here and keep an eye on us?” That venomous tone dared him to open his mouth again.

Heart pounding in his little chest, Courage gave a tiny nod.

Katz turned on his side, facing away from the other. His whiskers were twitching with annoyance.  
“You better not snore,” he warned.

The fox did not budge an inch. “You better not be a cuddler.”

“I’d sooner spoon the dog than even consider you.”

Courage flinched, eyes opening wide at that. He glanced nervously at the cat, but it didn’t seem like the offer was coming anytime soon. _Phew…_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Against all of his efforts, Courage somehow found himself, despite all odds, comfortable.

He laid there, nestled at the foot of the bed, pink toes curling as his expression remained still, looking out in the darkness surrounding him. He dared not to move, the echo of Katz’ threat still ringing in his ears. But neither had moved in hours, so he must have been safe.

And despite his trembling, it was sort of… nice.

Nice? Courage blinked at the thought. What a word for his situation. What was so nice about being threatened on a daily basis, constantly terrified, having to fight for his life every time he turned a corner?

The sound of voices in the rooms… The liveliness that encompassed the farmhouse once again…

The sheer fact that there were things in the house that were _alive._

It almost seemed like a betrayal, something niggled in the back of his mind. This bizarre scene shouldn’t feel this familiar, shouldn’t have this strange sense of comfort to it. The scent in the room was still Muriel’s, but the figures in the bed were not his owners.

So why was did he feel more complete with this nightmare than all those nights of dreamless sleeps?

The dog sighed and settled deeper in the blankets, trying to find his old spot. It had been too long since he had slept in here. And even longer since there had been others in the bed with him.

 _Maybe… It’s not so bad that they’re here,_ he thought. _Even if they want to kill me…_

His head leaned up, looking at the slumbering cat and fox.

_It’s better than nothing._

With that revelation, time and exhaustion soon drew his eyes closed.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It was early in the morning when Courage opened his eyes, nose trembling at a delicious smell wafting from underneath the door.

“Hm?” He turned his head to see if the others noticed– only to see that Cajun Fox was missing, his spot and the entire length of the bed completely overtaken by the lounging, still-sleeping body of Katz.

Slowly, the dog crept to the side of the bed, hopping off and making his way to the door. He opened it and slunk through, carefully closing it before he hopped down to the stairs.

Was the fox cooking breakfast?

_I hope it isn’t more of that healthy stew._

Courage grimaced at the thought, but scurried down the stairs and stepped into the kitchen. He watched the fox’s back as he stirred a giant pot of who-knew-what, his stomach ready to curdle at a moment’s notice.

“Pup!” Cajun Fox’s ear twitched, and he turned to stare at the dog in surprise. “Didn’t expect ya to be a mornin’ mutt.”

He wasn’t really, but he didn’t have much of a choice. His appetite gave the orders.

“Seein’ as how yer up, you can help,” the fox continued, turning back to the stove. He waited until the nervous shuffle of paws came to a halt beside him, and handed him a small burlap sack. “Here, hold these.”

Curiosity winning, Courage opened the sack and looked inside. He grabbed a few pieces, pulling them out to stare at them. They were no bigger than peas, but a strange mixture of red and gold. They smelled strong and pungent.

“Know what those are?” the fox asked. “Them’s crackle peppers! I always need a lil’ spice with my first bite o’ the day. They’ll go great with these eggs.”

A glance in the pot, and it was indeed a large pile of eggs sizzling and bubbling away. The dog leaned in closer for a bite.

“Whoa, there.” The cook nudged him back. “I’m gonna need you to stay focused an’ toss in what’s in that bag when I tell ya. These peppers are mighty reactive. Y'know what dat means?”

Courage shook his head.

“It means if ya put them in the pot too early b'fore I tell you to, it’ll blow us up to Kingdom Come.”

“… H-HUH?!” His eyes bulged out. The bag suddenly felt much heavier. And shakier.

The fox whooped out a laugh. “Aw, relax! There ain’t nearly enough to do that!” he cackled, tapping a spoon against the pot. “But they still pack a punch, an’ tha’s why I need ya to hold ‘em until I says so. Got it?”

Swallowing a noise, Courage nodded.

A disgruntled quack suddenly echoed in the kitchen, making Courage jolt and almost drop the bag.

“Ugh… Pesky mongrels…”

The two turned at the voice, seeing a ruffled and swaying Le Quack.

“Duck? What’re you doin’ up?” Cajun Fox chirped. “You some kind o’ early bird?” A snicker.

Le Quack grunted, not amused. “Hardly. Ze noise of you two rummaging through ze kitchen awoke me,” he grumbled, tapping a wing against his head. “You are not leetle mice, you know? Clamor and le clatter…”

“Oh-h-h-h. Sorry 'bout that, duckie,” the fox drawled, but did not seem apologetic. “We’ll try an’ be quiet. Go roost or whatever you birdies do.”

Courage watched as the duck’s expression shifted, a glint of something entering his sleepy eyes. It was not comforting in the least. “Merci. Now, if you will pardon moi…” Le Quack sniffed, waddling away.

“Heh! What a drama beak. Ain’t that right, pup?”

Not wanting to urge some feathery wrath from the fowl, Courage said nothing and held the bag close.

“A'right, now. Listen closely, pup. We’re almost ready to add them crackles. Hold 'em up an’ git ready to drop 'em. Timin’ is crucial!” Cajun Fox urged him.

Courage stood, shakily holding the bag over his head, tilting it towards the mixture.

A feather suddenly floated into view, landing delicately on his nose. He wavered and put the bag down for just a second, brushing the feather away. The dog then grabbed the bag of peppers and awaited the signal.

It was then that Courage realized that the bag he was holding did not feel the same. It was strangely cold and solid and heavier and… hissing?

“Huhuhuhuhu…”

That did not sound good.

Courage looked up, screaming at the sight of the lit bomb burning away in his paws. The fuse fizzled and wound down to the very end.

_Oh no, oh no, oh no-o-o-o-o–!!!_

Without thinking, he threw it into the pot.

After that, all the dog could remember was a large, muffled splash before the world turned wet and warm and blindingly yellow.

“BLEUGH!”

The dog spat and sputtered and rubbed his eyes, the smell of breakfast invading his very being. His head spinning, he squinted and looked around.

The kitchen was dripping, covered in chunks of egg. Not a spot of the walls or floor had been missed, globs of the mess hanging from the ceiling like cholesterol-filled stalactites. It would take forever to clean up.

_At least we don’t have to eat it, Courage gagged._

A large pile of omelettes with a red tail poking out, apparently Cajun Fox, stood up.

“Wha… Hoo-boy! What a mess!” The pile shook its head, splattering more chunks across the wall. The fox was revealed underneath, aiming a glare at Courage. At least, if his shades had not been gunked up with the mess. “Way to go, butterfingas!”

The dog’s mouth dropped open, and he flailed his paws. “But it– I didn’t–!” he started.

Dreaded footsteps silenced him.

_AH! Not again!_

They stopped at the doorway.

“… What… ?”

A growling, groggy voice crept up behind him, making his yellow-blotted fur stand on end.

_“Dog!”_

How… How does he always know?! Courage immediately started babbling, gesturing to the feathers that were still embedded in his fur that proved his innocence. It wasn’t his fault! It wasn’t!

Katz heard none of this. The villain stalked forward, his eyes dark and still glazed from sleep, but the anger radiated clearly in his voice, far from the calm baritone he used in their encounters. “You jolted me out of sleep, only to show me all of the work that I’ve done cleaning this disaster of a kitchen was for nothing! All you had to do was make breakfast! And you still managed to make a mess of it! You incompetent little…”

Claws dug into Courage’s neck as he shrieked, his body lurching up in the air. He felt himself being carted into the other room.

Cajun Fox stayed where he was, wiping off his sunglasses to stare at the receding pair.

“Uh… Nice knowin’ ya, pup!”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

“Dirty, stupid dog…” Katz was growling as he carried Courage to the living room, sitting down on the couch and making him sit up straight on a cushion besides him. His claws were digging into the scruff of his neck. “Always getting in messes, so incompetent.”

Courage sat obediently, not moving a muscle, though he was shaking hard enough for globs of omelette to sprinkle on the fabric.

A deep sigh. “I’m truly not looking forward to what I’m about to do, so don’t talk.”

This was it! He had finally had enough and he was going to kill him! The pink dog’s eyes squeezed shut, awaiting the feeling of nails slicing through his skin, or his paws wrapping around his neck and strangling him, or–

_Lick._

Lick, lick, lick…

Courage’s eyes shot open at the feeling of a rough, warm tongue sliding through his fur, lapping up the staling pieces of food tangled in his hair. “Huh-h-h-h?”

Was he… ?

Did he just… ?

He was... 

Courage's fur stood on end at the realization and the sensation, making it easier for the rough tongue to scrape up more of the mess from each strand.

_HE'S... BATHING ME?!!?!?_

Against his better judgment, Courage turned his head and looked up at Katz, eyes wide with confusion.

Katz spared him a dry look, not once hesitating as his tongue continued to slide over the dog, cleaning him up of that wretched, protein-ridden mess.

“Don’t read too much into this,” was all he stated, nipping at a piece of egg that had gotten stuck to the other’s ear. The sensation made the smaller flinch. “I just don’t want to bathe you in the tub again.”

Courage was too stunned to do anything but nod.


	7. Part Seven

“Ugh…”

Courage sat on the couch, completely clean and groomed, with a haunted look in his eyes. His fur had been licked thoroughly, not a speck of omelette left from the explosion in the kitchen. He twitched, staring straight ahead as he tried to understand what he just sat through. Had Katz really…

“Dog.”

The dog jolted at the voice and looked up at the cat, only to shrink back at the chilliness in his eyes.

“This… unpleasant incident,” Katz began with a vague gesture to his furry pink body, obvious disgust littering his tone, “never happened.”

Courage blinked at him.

“Don’t think about blabbering to the rest of the house. Understand?”

His glare was icy and terrifying as usual, but it was off-set by the dog’s confusion. _… Why would I blab about something like this?_ But he shivered and nodded nonetheless, paws lifted to zip his mouth shut. As far as he was concerned, it never happened.

_The longer it keeps me alive, my lips are sealed!_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

“Hey, mutt!” Cajun Fox’s voice was incredulous as he stared when the dog shuffled silently back into the kitchen. He had been attempting to mop up the egg on the floor, which was gathered in a gigantic slimy pile in the middle of the room. The smell was atrocious. “Wow! Ya survived? An’ without a scratch, it looks! I was absolutely sure dat was gonna be da last time I saw ya! Dat furball was mighty steamed, had his lil’ claws out an’ everythang!”

Courage uttered a nervous chuckle.

The fox waved the slimy mop around. “Yessir, tha’ was hysterical! Thought I was gonna haveta go in there an’ clean up what was left of ya! Well, since yer here…” The mop was immediately plopped into the startled dog’s paws. “I’m on break! See ya at lunch!”

“Mmrh…” Courage muttered sorrowfully as the fox ambled off, ears drooping at the sight of the mess that still remained on the ceiling. This was going to take hours…

His ears then shot up in fright as Katz moved back into the room, eying the mess.

“This room better not end up smelling like rotten eggs, dog,” he muttered out. "I expect it to be as spotless as I had made it before you wrecked it with your canine clumsiness.“

A threat was to be expected, but he did not foresee the cat walking in and taking a seat at the table. And he remained there, murderous gaze on him until his eyes fell instinctively to the floor. It seemed that he would stay and watch.

 _Great… Just what I need…_ Courage winced and got to cleaning.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

After many hours, the kitchen had finally been finished, and what a tense chore that had been. Courage laid on the floor, panting. He was exhausted, and as he lifted his head to look at the clock, he realized that it was almost time for lunch. With a groan, the dog lifted himself, bones aching as he went into the cupboard and began to set the table for the villains. He didn’t want to risk them messing with Muriel’s plates.

Unfortunately, Katz was still there as well. In the same seat since that morning. He had watched him clean the entire time, and did not help him once. Not that the dog had expected it, no, but at least a conversation– venomous as it would have been – couldn’t have hurt to break the silence. It had been a long and silent morning.

Courage set the table quietly, avoiding the feline’s gaze.

Katz seemed to come to life and stared down at him, whiskers giving a small twitch. He finally spoke for the first time in hours. "I’m not going to hurt you, dog. It’s much too early for that.”

He flinched and whimpered. Now he wished that it had remained quiet.

Yellow eyes grew colder, if possible. “Don’t give me that. And don’t begin to think that I am softening up. Do you think that things have changed? I told you before to not begin thinking that–” and here a paw waved disdainfully at the room beyond, like the memory was still in there and not between them, “meant anything.”

He continued to set the table, though the silverware shook noisily.

“Because it does not. You are still a useless mutt that I will one day have the joy of killing.”

Courage kept his head down and tried to remain standing as he carefully edged a spoon in Katz’s direction. What did he expect from a cat who was bent on killing him and nursing him back to health at the same time? He shouldn’t begin to understand his methods. But why did he have to be so scary?! He was setting silverware, he wasn’t even attempting to run away! Couldn’t he give him a break at least once?

That dangerous tone never left. “Nothing has changed, mutt.”

Apparently not.

And then Katz suddenly stood, startling Courage. But instead of attacking like he assumed he would, all the cat did was take one final hard, calculating look at him, and simply turned and walked out of the room.

Courage trembled. He could finally breathe once the feline left his line of sight, though the stench of staling eggs hardly gave him relief.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Since yesterday, the farmhouse was loaded with tension, and it was all focused between Courage and Katz.

Courage, of course, was innocent. He did not antagonize, he didn’t quarrel, he didn’t even begin to think about standing up to the feline. What kind of death wish would he have had if he even tried that?! All of the other villains had the same wish, after all. He didn’t need to add to the trouble.

But it seemed that trouble loved to follow him wherever he went.

Between organizing the cookbooks in the kitchen, his fingers fumbled on a recipe for plum pie when he saw a long shadow with a curling tail appear behind him.

Courage, as usual, shrank down.

Why was he so terrorized in his own kitchen?!

Despite the obvious submission, Katz’s voice crept over him like a silken nightmare.

“Don’t begin to assume that my intentions of getting rid of you have diminished.”

The paper rustled in Courage’s shaking paw as he gulped and turned his head, eyes wide and frozen on the feline’s scheming features. He could almost see the image of himself being strangled in those yellow eyes. “Mmrrrh…”

“Hush,” Katz scoffed out as he turned back to the table. “Just finish your book nonsense and get out. You can go eat somewhere that you won’t mess up. Like outside.”

With that hateful glare still simmering in his head, Courage slammed the book shut and slid it back into the cupboard, little paws already on the move and skittering to the living room as fast as he could. He hadn’t really eaten since yesterday, but his stomach had been too knoted up to even consider eating. And he didn’t want to eat around all the people who were trying to kill him, anyway. It wasn’t like he had been particularly craving whatever the fox had prepared, either. It looked at him funny whenever he opened the pot.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It had been three days, and the encounters were only getting worse.

It seemed that it did not matter where Courage met Katz, or at what time. It was all met with the same hostile barrage of threats. He even stopped sleeping in the bedroom because he knew he could just feel those cold eyes on him as he tried to feign sleep. Courage was exhausted, but he had been through many fearful nights before the villains had come to the farmhouse, so he was unfortunately used to such feelings.

But the feline had no mercy, and the tired pup was cornered yet again.

It was his fault, he supposed. What made him think that he could just walk into the living room like he wasn’t going to get homicidally berated today?

And the feline, sadly, did not disappoint.

“You’re always giving me that look. You think that you can just stare up at me with those large disgusting dog eyes and think that you can sway me? How annoying. Do you even have to wonder why I want to squeeze your neck so hard that they pop out of your tiny head? I so desperately want to do so every time that I see your ugly little face… But do you know why I don’t, dog? Do you know what stops me every time? What you should be thankful for?”

If that chilling bout of questions wasn’t enough to jolt the dog into a fearful stupor (only aided by days without sleep), he only intensified it as he suddenly leaned in close, and Courage was immediately awake, and his racing pulse dropped with every silent, warm breath he felt against his face.

“The only reason that I allow you to keep those eyes is because I like the fear they show.”

His eyes agreed and gleamed full of terror as he couldn’t look away.

Katz’s own eyes narrowed into slits of hatred, the same look that had been plaguing the canine’s mind for so many days. “So be smart, mutt. I’m starting to not like what I see inside of them.”

And it was then that Courage realized that he didn’t need sleep or even feeling in his legs to know they could be used to run out of the room. And very quickly, apparently.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Courage had to think of something. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. None of the other villains seemed to have noticed the drastic change that Katz had undergone. To them, he appeared normal, but the dog could clearly tell how interntionally terrifying he had become.

_I… I guess being terrified of him in the first place helped me notice…_

The dog woozily sat up from his one-minute nap, glancing around before he crawled down the stairs, ears perked and listening for the cat. Maybe there was someone who could help…

_Oh… I really don’t wanna do this…_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It took a few minutes and several moments of deep breathing before Courage had the nerve to approach Le Quack. The tension between Katz and himself was making life unbearable, and he felt that he needed to give talking a shot with the only (if falsely) licensed professional in the house. Goodness knew that it wasn’t working with the feline. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take!

With bated breath, he cautiously approached the side of Eustace’s chair, where the duck was busy watching television.

At the sight of the duck, Courage held back a shiver and cleared his throat.

Le Quack turned from the fuzzy screen to the noise. At the sight of his favorite ‘patient’, he smiled maliciously. “'Allo, leetle doggie! Do joo be needing my assistance? I’ll have to pick out ze appropriate mallet.”

“No-no-no-no!” Courage shook his head.

“Non? Very well. We save zat for later.” The duck hopped off the chair and waddled to the other side toward the canine, twisting his mustache thoughtfully, a physician ready to 'heal’. “Now what is ze matter? Joo have seemed more rattled zen usual.”

Courage could only babble and point to the kitchen, pressing his face into a triangle and glaring. “Mmrmph… Stupid dog.”

“Ah! Monsieur Katz?”

A nod.

“What about heem?”

His babble was torn between high-pitched pleas and low growling, ending with him turning into a sour-faced ice cube.

“He iz… Oui, I have noticed zat he iz, how joo say, more free-geed? Icy. Oui, more icy zen usual. Hon hon,” the duck chortled suddenly and quirked an amused eye at his patient. “Did joo do somezing to upset heem? Zat is magnifique! Joo are full of surprizes, leetle doggie!”

“NO!” His high-pitched squeal faltered as he clamped his mouth shut, eyes whirling around to see if the cat had come in from the noise. After a moment, he removed his paws and shook his head again.

_At least he noticed that he was acting differently!_

His response only confused Le Quack. “What, zen? What iz ze problem? Hon…?” The duck blinked and seemed to see something that Courage didn’t communicate, and gave a smirk. “Hon hon… Iz eet zat simple? Joo haven’t slept, he as been even more dark zen usual… Are joo worried about heem keeling joo?”

Courage only offered a helpless shrug. What else was there to be terrified of?

Le Quack let loose a honking laugh. “Oh, such a stupid leetle doggie! Why you worry? Wanting to keel joo is not uncommon! Why, ask anyone in ze house!”

The dog’s face drooped further. Such a pleasant reminder.

“Oh, he will not do eet. Non, not like zat. Of course he do not want joo to die like zat! Non, non, non! Never so soon! Zat is in such bad taste. One of us iz going to be ze one to do eet when joo are completely at best health. He just wants to be ze one to do eet when zat happens. And eet WILL happen eventually,” he added with a vicious glint in those fowl eyes, mustache twirled leisurely. “He iz impatient, oui? Zat is all.”

The dog’s hopes were crushed. His one chance of finding a solution to his problem and it was not only dashed, but it also reignited his fears. Why did they have to keep reminding him that he was going to die?

Le Quack waddled forward, and Courage found himself face-to-beak with the bird. “Do not be worried, leetle doggie…” he spoke, and a feathery, surprisingly soft wing pat across his head. The motion was eerily gentle, and it caught Courage’s attention. “Why ze sense in zat? Fear ees natural, especially with someone like joo, and in zees, how you say, circumstances. Just remain terrified as joo always are of us and everyzing will work out just fine, oui? Zen maybe one day HE will not keel joo– maybe it will be me! Oui? Compre vous?”

He most certainly did not want to comprehend and he whined loudly to prove it.

“Zere we go! Just keep zat 'appy leetle thought in your 'ead and he will be his normal distant self determined to be ze winner of your death-bringing lottery! Got eet?”

“… E-e-e…”

_N-No problem…_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Problem.

Courage was in the only comforting area left of the farm that the feline hadn’t stalked him, the bedroom. He sat upon the pillow and straightened a crooked edge of the quilt, glancing over at Muriel’s photograph before his eyes fell back on to the stitched pattern beneath him.

Where was his solution? It seemed like nothing was going to stop Katz from his reign of terror. Was he truly so upset because he was losing patience? It was hard to tell if this was a genuine concern. From what Courage remembered, the only time the cat appeared to carry any sincerity was in his sincere methods of trying to kill him.

Maybe he was just what he had always known. A simple killer who would not stop until he was killed. It would never stop until the deed was done. What other option… was there… ?

That was it.

Courage had to hold on to the pillow as he swooned, eyes wide with realization.

The duck was actually right.

_“Do not be worried… Why ze sense in zat?”_

Why, indeed? Why WAS he so worried about Katz? Of course, he was terrifying, and no amount of self-realization was going to change that. But when the dog really thought about it, through the haze of constant fear and the instinctive rush in his heart when the feline even glanced in his direction… The reason was fuzzy.

Why was he afraid of the villains?

Why was he afraid of Katz?

Why was he afraid at all?

The truth was obvious. He had always been afraid. Even when he was a pup, scared of his own tiny fluffy shadow. It just seemed to be who he was, and try as he did to fight it, he knew that’s how it would always be. The world was so large and scary and filled with so many horrible things (five of which now lived with him) and how could it not terrify him? But Muriel had always given him courage.

But Muriel was gone.

The thought alone always made him wince.

Just a few days ago, he was ready to die. And now he felt a desperate need to remain alive as they had shown up and laid claim to the house, the same feelings he had all those times that he had encountered the villains. What had changed? He had no owners to protect, and he so badly wanted the terror to stop.

Courage sighed. The easiest solution would be to run away. He wouldn’t be so terrified on a daily basis if he just left, just walked out of the door and ran to anywhere but Nowhere. He had wanted to stay because he couldn’t leave the house. When they had first appeared, he had decided that he was never going to give up the farm. It was all that Muriel and Eustace had left him. The house and the memories…

But wasn’t it just a house?

There were other houses, and none of them filled with murderous creatures. In fact, they probably had nicer occupants, ones that would gladly take him in and care for him. Owners that wouldn’t threaten him or stalk him to near-hysteria or mess up the furniture and make him scrub and clean everything before forcing him to eat outside.

Maybe it would be better if he left–

**_NO!_ **

Courage shoved those thoughts away and glared at the floor. The notion upset him.

He couldn’t– He WOULDN’T leave.

They weren’t his owners. And this wasn’t their house.

It was Muriel’s house.

It was his home.

And he was going to keep it that way.

Tiny paws shook as he held back a sob, the wooden floors becoming blurry as he fought the tears he didn’t realize began to fill his eyes. But he wasn’t sad. It was such a relief for himself, to know that he would stay. To feel determination once again to save something precious…

_One day… One of them will kill me… Because I’m not leaving… And they aren’t going to leave until I’m dead…_

He sniffled hard and wiped at his eyes.

_So why am I worried?_

That lump in his throat tightened as he heaved out a quiet, choked sound, almost like a chuckle.

_I… I will keep the house safe, Muriel. I will keep it safe as long as I can. For us. And… when we meet again… I hope that you’ll be proud of me…_

His trembling lips raised in a smile and he clasped his paws together as he imagined it.

_Because I’m pretty proud of myself, too._

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 _Where is that useless lump of fur?_ Katz seethed as he stalked up the stairs. He hadn’t been able to find the dog since that morning when he had cornered him in the living room. He was long overdue for another good scare. He wasn’t going to let him think for one second that he was beginning to soften up. He was still the same hardened criminal that had been terrorizing the Bagges’ for years!

And his plan had been going swimmingly. All he had to do was simply walk into the room now and the dog was almost wetting himself.

As long as he learned his lesson.

If he was hopeful, maybe the dog would die of fright. Yes, he had made a pact with the others that none of them would do anything to the mutt before he was completely at full health, but the pup was skittish and weak. How could they blame something as natural as being frightened to death?

The feline hid his self-satisfied grin as he peered into the bedroom.

“Ah. There you are,” he drawled.

He relished in the way that the dog jerked and whirled around to stare at him. Those bloodshot eyes were rounded with exhaustion and still filled with fear. It also looked as if the dog had been crying.

How typical.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

“I’ve been looking for you, dog.”

There were words he never liked hearing.

“It may have taken me longer than necessary, but it didn’t last forever. This small shack isn’t even large enough for you to hide from me when you try. And you’ll never be able to escape if all five of us will be searching for you. What are you going to do when it’s finally time to kill you? You won’t fight. You don’t have the spine for it. What will you do, then?” he tutted and towered over the sniveling dog, voice mocking as ever. “Cry yourself to death before we get the chance to make you? You seem to be so good at that.”

Courage felt the rush return and he desperately held back the tears that had resurfaced, stinging his eyes back shut as he drooped his head down. Submissive.

“You won’t even look when I’m speaking to you? How rude, you unsophisticated little…”

 _Don’t fight, don’t argue,_ that voice kept repeating in a dull echo in his ears.

“Are you listening to me, you fetid mongrel?”

_Maybe I should leave…_

Katz’s voice reached a rough tone as he stepped forward, exasperated. “Answer me, dog!”

Courage clenched his paws and he ignored the sting to make himself look at that whiskered crimson face that doubted him from day one.

This was still his home!

“Then… I’ll… see you wh-when it happens!” he forced out.

The only sign of surprise from the cat was the way that his ears folded back. His scowl deepened, but he didn’t seem angry. His limbs actually appeared to relax, his bristled fur smoothed, as if coaxed by that exclamation. If the dog hadn’t known any better, or was able to see more than circles of colors and shapes in his current state, he could have sworn that he had seen… relief in those deadly eyes?

Trick of the light, surely.

Katz, of course, regained his composure, narrowed orbs as untouched as ever. “… Good. You’ve finally made things interesting again, mutt,” he muttered.

He turned and walked out of the room.

Courage let out a breath that he had been holding, falling fully on to the pillow. He swallowed what he was sure was his heart that had tried to escape his chest, and felt his lips raise again in a small, quivery smile. His first taste of victory in Nowhere knew how long.

It wouldn’t last, but it was sweet.


	8. Part Eight

Finally, it was quiet.

Katz enjoyed the temporary serenity as he skimmed through another cookbook left lying around the kitchen, his posture content against the table. Silence was a rare thing in the farmhouse now, considering how many loud-mouthed characters resided in it. It needed to be savored whenever it happened.

His ear twitched at the timid padding of paws that approached.

_Let's see how this goes..._

A thin leg poked into the doorway. Followed by another. Courage slowly slid into the room. He stood still as he noticed Katz at the table, but instead of running away, he remained. His limbs relaxed and he continued to walk, and shot an occasional glance at the cat as he made his way to the fridge.

Katz continued to read in silence, though he was all too aware of the interesting turn this had taken.

Courage managed to take his eyes off the feline long enough to open the fridge and pull out an apple. He fiddled with it in his paws as he looked at the cat once again before he took a bite. The sharp noise made him flinch as it caused pointed red ears to flatten, but he relaxed as they rose again.

Were it not for the tension that brimmed eternally between the two, it would have almost looked comfortable.

Another bite. 

A slower bite.

He barely nudged at the fruit with his teeth.

Katz sniffed, and turned his attention to the small cur. "Dog..." he finally spoke. He noticed how the mutt flinched, but he continued as if it didn't happen. "Either eat normally or leave. Your stomach is making more noise than that apple ever could. Fill it up and quiet it down if you insist on staying in here."

Courage's ears drooped slightly in embarrassment before he took another big bite, as if convinced.

A slow blink as Katz skimmed another recipe. _Annoying, but tolerable._

That seemed to be a theme that the feline was all too aware of.

What had happened? It didn't make sense. For days, his intentions had seemed so clear, to scare the dog senseless, and now he was allowing the dog to not only remain in the same space, but to plague his silence with apple-eating-- the noisiest fruit he could manage to find! This had not been the plan. It should have been a slow, blissful track toward the dog's recovery and ultimately his death.

But... now...

A paw drew over his face and sharp nails pinched the bridge of his nose as annoyance washed over him.

It was a crazy thought that hadn't dawned until the dog stood up to him, but it had been only then that he realized that... he had actually _missed_ having the stupid mongrel around. He bit back a groan at himself.

A stunning revelation. Too stunning. At first, Katz refused to accept that was it, but now he knew that it was true. It didn't come from a place of caring, that much was certain. No, it was a thankfully more malicious reason. The cat loved to torture, after all. And when he was intending to torture his victim, it had been a delightful game of cat-and-mouse. And Courage had been the best at remaining alive throughout many, many of his plans. The mutt had been like a mangy cockroach, never able to die. And during these last few years, where had been his mouse?

Content. Happy. Alive.

Not words that he had ever come to associate with the dog that he would have preferred, but yet he still remained at least one of those things.

One thing too many, the old Katz would have noted.

The feline sighed, barely aware of how the mongrel still remained in the room as another crunch interrupted his thoughts, but secretly impressed. It was a nice change. He wasn't satisfied with the blind, irrational fear that he had been forcing from the dog for days. He assumed it would soothe his need to frighten and harm that had built up over the years of unworthy victims, but the rush wasn't there. The torture had barely affected him, and it baffled the cat, because wasn't that what he wanted all along? Terror at his very presence?

But it turned out that it wasn't what he wanted after all. At least not this way.

When the dog stood up to him, it was like reigniting an old flame of interest. Something new and yet familiar. It was so different from all the unsatisfying murders that he had committed in the last few years. No worthy opponents that escaped at the last second or fished out a plan out of thin air. No, they died. Quite easily.

It had been so boring.

And now, with his favorite victim's fate in his paws, a veritable ticking clock that counted down to his demise, could he give up the chase so easily?

His thoughts faded as he heard a familiar hum float toward the kitchen.

Both dog and cat looked at the doorway.

A low growl rumbled in Katz's throat and his ears folded back.

Farewell, silence.

Cajun Fox strolled in, his hands fiddling with the apron he slid on as he approached the stove. "Out, kitty-cat. It's gettin' close to lunch an' I gotta start whippin' up some grub," he announced.

The cat returned his eyes to the cookbook. "Pardon?"

"You heard me. Shoo."

Courage assumed that he was also included in the dismissal and immediately turned to head back to the living room.

"Whoa, whoa, Pup, stop right there!" He pointed as the dog froze. "Yer gonna help me."

"... Huh?" Courage blinked. After the egg incident, he wanted him to help cook?

"Yer th' only one tha' seems like they're any good in the kitchen. Ya do what I tells ya. Not real good, but ya do it anyway. One lil' 'splosion ain't gonna make me turn out free labor! So stay. An' YOU," he snapped his fingers at the cat, "can just hightail it outta here."

Katz clicked his tongue. "I'm not finished reading," he replied.

The fox grunted, hands on his hips. His tail gave an exasperated twitch. "Furball, you gots two options. One, git outta my domain an' lemme cook fer all you greedy, ungrateful mouths, or... " He tilted his sunglasses to pierce the cat with a glance of one of his large, unsettling eyeballs. "You actually do some work 'round here an' help us out. What's it gonna be?"

Katz spared him a glance before he stood up and went to the back door. "I'll leave you to another one of your culinary catastrophes."

Cajun Fox snickered and tucked his glasses back up. "I'm savin' you an' extra plate fer that, fluffy!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The desert surrounding the farm was vast and stagnant with heat, and Katz crinkled his nose at the dust that flew at his face in constant puffs of wind. How dreary. What was he supposed to do? 

The first thought that loomed was that he could take a quick rest outside. The sun was bright and the heat radiated from the ground like a sandy blanket, and his claws flexed contentedly at the notion. He only slept eleven hours so far today. That was hardly considered a nap.

Or... 

He could go into that large barn that was situated a short distance away.

Katz tilted his head. How had he not noticed that before?

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The door creaked loudly as he shoved it open, swinging against the wall with a slam. A cough escaped the cat as the scents filled his lungs, pungent and earthy. The ground was cooler than the scorched dust outside, and much more moist as he walked in.

It was impressively built, and he looked at the upper level laden with bales of hay. What DID they ever need those for? They didn't own horses.

Katz ignored the random details and drew his attention to a pile of junk nearby. He bent over to paw through the rusty pile, eyes squinted at the cloud that rose to greet him.

Why was everything always so dirty? 

_There's no excuse that it was meant for the outdoors. That dog really needs to be less lazy..._

He grew tired of searching through the crates and turned to rummage through the shelves of a tool-laden table to (hopefully) pilfer through something with less tetanus, and the cat paused as his foot nudged a soft, damp mound.

He looked down, and finally noticed the two large piles beside his feet. The squelch of dirt against his toes made him twitch before he fully faced the discovery, which had been previously hidden in the darkness of the corner. Just from a glance, it was fresher than anything surrounding him, although that was ironic considering what he knew must have been underneath.

_... Looks like I found them._

A huff of air, a chuckle perhaps, escaped Katz. He had wondered what the dog had done with the bodies.

Where has the interest come from? He wasn't sure.

The details were so clear despite the muddiness of the ground. His sharp eyes noted the dirt placement around the grave was haphazard and frenzied, trails of moisture lining the edges almost in some mock decoration. How hard had the dog cried when all of this was happening? He supposed the mutt had been hysterical in his grief and wanted the husks of his owners to be out of sight as soon as possible. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to keep them out of his mind.

The piles were crudely packed, with a batch of withering flowers placed on top of one of the graves. Muriel's, no doubt.

The other grave was as bald and blank-faced as the head of the man buried underneath it.

Katz kneeled down for a closer look.

Out of the two piles, the sides of Muriel's grave were noticeably more even, straightened out as if with a shovel, intermingled with the sloppy scraping of what he only knew to be the dog's handiwork. If that weren't strange enough, the dirt around the flowers had been gently patted down, far too clean to be made from the mutt's paws. He would have been too distraught to even consider returning with flowers to place on her grave. The indentation of long and bony fingers still remained in the dirt, curled around the roots.

The feline's eyebrows rose in surprise.

_The old man... helped him dig the graves?_

While he seemed to take an astounding amount of care in his wife's preparations, his own grave was not as neat. The feline almost believed that the dog had dug this one himself after he had passed, but there were faint traces of that same shovel. 

The man's foresight was rather chilling.

The cat blinked slowly. He couldn't imagine that the dog was able to sit there and watch the man dig not only one, but two graves. It must have been quite the trauma to realize he would soon lose both of them. It may have been why they seemed so untouched since the initial digging. Had he been out to the barn since they both passed?

The Bagges' man had not nearly been as kind to the dog as the woman had been, but it was evident that the mutt had still cared.

Sentimental dolt.

Katz's eyes scanned the ground for a third grave, smaller and likely beside the woman, but there wasn't. It seemed that the man knew who would outlive who in this case. 

It made sense. He had been much older, even against dog years. 

The feline decided that he was bored from the physical details and stood back up. It was far more interesting to imagine the pain that the dog had went through. Yes... To lose someone that he had risked that scrawny neck for so many times... 

Katz scoffed at his own thoughts. That mongrel's love for the old woman had been disgustingly obvious. He hardly knew a thing about her, himself. Just another one of his many would-be victims. The only reason she ever stood out to him was because of the mutt. And then, after plan after plan failed, the challenge only grew. He became obsessed with taking away the dog's strength. Her. Just to have some semblance of victory! His fur bristled at the thought of his failures.

Now she was gone. And the chase seemed over.

He supposed the saying was true. It WAS the journey to murder, not the destination.

 _... I suppose I shouldn't have tried to feed her to my spiders..._ he thought. _Or tried to stretch her like taffy... And I could assume that she didn't care for me turning her into a washing machine on that island... or attempting to drown her in a submarine._

How was he supposed to know? No one else had complained. Of course, everyone else had died. They didn't have a pesky mutt that foiled each and every one of his plans.

 _But she survived each time._ Because of the dog. It had been the old woman who had been the reason for Courage's... courage. With her out of the way, the mutt had nothing else to live for. Her safety was what caused him to engage in the heroics that had all his previous victims meet their demise in some form. That was why the others had all banded together as soon as they heard about the deaths. What better time to exact their revenge?

But the shrunken, whimpering mess of pink fluff that had been laying in a pool of his own tears was not the rival they remembered. 

Katz narrowed his eyes. _No sport at all._

It was then that the distant sound of the fox cajoling-- a horrid sound full of grammatical errors and folkisms -- drew his attention back to the front of the barn, and he realized that it was time for lunch. When would that fox stop announcing it in song?

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

As he left, he slowly slid the large door shut once again, slamming the block of wood back in place to lock it. No reason to leave traces...

His ear twitched, and Katz suddenly looked to the house.

A nervous pink head watching from the kitchen window darted out of sight.

The feline heaved a sigh. Such a nosy mutt.

_Annoying, but tolerable._

He headed back to the house.


End file.
